


Begin Again

by SynthesisNexus



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Circle Mages, Circle of Magi, Cuddling & Snuggling, Divine Conclave, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Falling In Love, Fereldans, Fereldans are basically English, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Mages, Mages (Dragon Age), Magic, Magic-Users, Naked Cuddling, One Shot, Reconciliation, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Surana (Dragon Age) is not a Grey Warden, Templars, Templars (Dragon Age), Temple of Sacred Ashes (Dragon Age), Trauma, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 17:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20362630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SynthesisNexus/pseuds/SynthesisNexus
Summary: Caelia hadn’t meant to say his name out loud. It would probably have been better if she hadn’t – if she had kept her mouth shut, head down, and walked past Cullen without him ever noticing her. But whatever she had expected when she had volunteered to be part of the rebel mage contingent to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, it was not to come face to face with her old flame from Kinloch Hold after a decade of separation.





	Begin Again

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed

“Cullen.”

His amber eyes snapped up at the sound of his name. There was a moment, and then two; Caelia could pinpoint the exact moment he recognised her by the minuscule widening of his eyes. It was with a bittersweet comprehension that she realised that she could still read him just as well now as in the days of Kinloch Hold.

Cullens eyes swept over her form, mirroring her own action from moments earlier. He was categorising all the changes just as she had. Cullen was thirty-two now: his shoulders were still broad, and the training regimen of a templar made sure he still filled out his uniform quite nicely; his golden hair had lost some of its shine (if her eyes weren’t deceiving her, she could even spot a few specks of grey), though, and his face had lines that hadn’t been there the last time. Too many lines for what was normal for a man in his early thirties, she could admit.

What really caught her eyes, though, was the look on his face. _Oh,_ that look! He looked a man who had been to war and back. Recalling where she was and why she was there, she rescinded and corrected; Cullen had the look of a man who was still at war and was tired of it.

It had only taken a moment before his eyes were back on hers, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped.

“Caelia.”

~ Begin Again ~

Caelia first met Cullen in the Chantry of Kinloch Hold.

It was at the behest of Wynne that she was there. Well, it had been the first time. Afterwards, Caelia had found herself drawn to the quiet place of worship, when she had needed some peace and privacy to be with her thoughts. The Revered Mother and her initiates were always pleasant enough and left her to her contemplations when she went there, which couldn’t always be said about the other mages if she went to the library. The frequency of her visits depended on the thoughts she faced, but it was a common occurrence that she went by the Chantry two or three times each week. Outside of the mandatory weekly sermon, of course.

Many of her apprentice- colleagues, and even mentors, had a complicated relationship with the Chant of Light. They either swung back and forth between loving it and hating it, or they went to extremes to either shun it (albeit, that was a rather suicidal thing to do in the _Chantry-funded_ Circle of Magi) or embrace it with all their being. While Caelia more than tolerated the former, she had honestly no patience for either extreme: her visits to the Chantry always coincided – by chance, she assured others – with Keili’s lessons (by happenstance, that also meant that Caelia avoided her inane ramblings about the Curse of Magic), and she had developed quite a glare especially for Torrin, which managed to quiet him even before he began a heated, one-sided debate about the metaphorical chains the Chantry puts on mages with their Chants (all occurring in a hushed whisper, of course, to avoid detection by the ever-watchful templars).

Caelia’s own relationship with the Chant of Light, in turn, was rather more… ‘peaceful’ had to be the best term for it. Yes, she was at peace with her beliefs: she believed in the Maker and the lessons taught by Him through His Chants. She truly did. That didn’t always mean that she was in agreement with the Chantry’s interpretations of said Chants – nor that they thought themselves the sole authority to decide which Chants were controversial, and thus branding them Dissonant Verses. To no-one’s surprise, her biggest disagreement with the Chantry’s teachings was those on magic.

‘_Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.’_ Transfigurations 1:2. That single stanza was the leash, whip, sword, and chopping block that the Chantry used to control mages. It was the reason for their confinement and their isolation – hidden away only to be used in the direst of circumstances (like a war with the Iron Oxen of the North). In Caelia’s mind, however, that was not enough.

How could the magic of the mages serve the people, when they were hidden away? Sure, it was help when they prevented an invasion, but what about the small things? Mages could help with curing the sick, by easing the burden of the worker, by entertainment, by spreading the knowledge that they had acquired over the last millennia. Mages and their magic could not serve while sitting in an ivory tower with the threat of an executioner’s blade above their neck.

Caelia wasn’t so naïve as to state that magic was harmless. It could be dangerous, just as any other tool could; just as fire could burn down fields, water could sweep away a village, and a sword could kill a king. And the Circle was important, in that it trained mages to control their tool, to harness it and focus it. Caelia wouldn’t have been able to do half the things she could, half again as well, without the mentors she had trained under here – and she could almost be certain that she would’ve hurt others in the process of trying to improve herself. That was not an acceptable compromise in exchange for her to go where she pleased.

These were the thoughts that filled her head that Tuesday in the Chantry of Kinloch Hold. She was sitting on the second row of wooden benches, her eyes were directed, unfocused, at the lit brazier in front of the statue of Andraste. Or she had been until the noise of a templar’s armoured plate in movement broke her from her reverie. She glanced back at the entrance just as Knight-Captain Hadley walked in with a templar she didn’t recognize.

“And this is the Chantry,” Knight-Captain Hadley explained to the templar. “The Revered Mother Eritrea shepherds the faithful in the tower; she is a good woman, with admirable principles. If you have any troubles, she will always be there to lend an ear along with an advice if it is welcomed. The weekly sermon is on Saturdays at nine – everyone is to attend but for those with guard duty.”

Ah, he was new. Knight-Captain Hadley was showing him around.

The templar wasn’t wearing a helmet, which already made Caelia more inclined to get along with him. The helmet wasn’t a mandatory part of the templar uniform, as it offered very little protection against mages (magical flames didn’t tend to shy away from the holes for the eyes). Many still wore it, Caelia suspected, to distance themselves from their charges. But this one didn’t.

He was very easy on the eyes, this Caelia wasn’t afraid to admit. The templars, in general, had a physique she enjoyed in the sanctity of her mind, as their training regimen didn’t allow for sloppiness. He had a strong jaw with some light stubble dusted across it, prominent cheekbones under amber eyes, and beautiful golden hair. He almost looked like a lion to her, majestic mane and all.

That was when he spotted her, and, subsequently, so did the Knight-Captain.

“Enchanter,” Knight-Captain Hadley greeted her with a light tilting of his head. “My apologies for disturbing you: I didn’t spot you there. I was just showing Rutherford the premises.”

“Of course, no worries,” Caelia answered with a soft smile. “I was just about done here, anyway.”

She made to rise from her seat when the new templar spoke up.

“’Enchanter?’ How old are you exactly?” he asked. When she raised an eyebrow at him, he blushed brightly red and stammered out an apology. “I’m sorry. It’s just- we didn’t have any elves in Honnleath – that’s where I’m from, Honnleath – and you just look very young- I mean, and-.”

“Breathe, corporal,” the Knight-Captain laughed, Caelia joining in with some chuckling.

“I’m sorry,” the new templar, Rutherford, repeated. By now his face was as red as a tomato.

“There’s no need,” Caelia assured him. “I am sixteen.”

The blush receded as Rutherford blinked in surprise. “Sixteen?”

“Surana here passed her Harrowing at age fifteen, last year,” the Knight-Captain explained, a glimmer in his eyes. “She is the youngest to do so in the history of Kinloch Hold – and the youngest to do so in the Circle of Magi as a whole in three centuries.”

Rutherford looked her over again, an assessing look in his eyes this time. “Truly?”

Now, it was Caelia’s turn to blush. “Truly.”

“That is very impressive,” Rutherford told her sincerely.

She shot him a small smile. “I suppose it is.”

A comfortable silence spread between them, as they simply stood smiling at each other. It was interrupted by the Knight-Captain a moment later when he cleared his throat.

“I apologise again, Surana,” Knight-Captain Hadley repeated. “We’ll get out of your hair now. We still have seventeen more levels to cover.”

Rutherford’s smile turned aghast so quickly Caelia couldn’t help but snort. “_Seventeen!?_”

~ Begin Again ~

No-one said or did anything, instead opting to watch Caelia and Cullen with curious eyes. At least she chose to interpret the looks as curious, especially the ones from her fellow mages; Cullen’s actions in Kirkwall wasn’t exactly a secret, and while she had never conformed herself after what others thought of her, right then and there the mages couldn’t afford disunity.

Caelia hadn’t meant to say his name out loud. It would probably have been better if she hadn’t – if she had kept her mouth shut, head down, and walked past Cullen without him ever noticing her. But whatever she had expected when she had volunteered to be part of the rebel mage contingent to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, it was not to come face to face with her old flame from Kinloch Hold after a decade of separation.

And said separation hadn't exactly been pleasant.

He was standing by the entrance to Haven beside a stern-looking, Nevarran woman. Unlike the others, she wore a deep frown as she glanced between the two of them. Caelia couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through her head – especially not when Caelia spotted the Seekers’ all-seeing eye on her chest plate.

“It’s been a while,” Caelia finally said after an endless moment.

Cullen blinked a few times, as if waking up from a dream. He took a deep breath, looking away from her – and didn’t that smart something fiercely. “It… has.”

She wanted to feel angry. She wanted to scream and shout and let it all out, about how he wasn’t the only one who suffered in Uldred’s uprising, about how he wasn’t the only one who had to leave Kinloch Hold to recover, about how much it hurt for him to cut her off so thoroughly after all they had had together, all without saying goodbye. She wanted to feel all that at once, but instead she just felt a soul-crushing sadness.

Before arriving in Haven, she had been over him. Or she thought she had been. No, she hadn’t had anyone to call ‘love’ since him, but she had made friends and family in Ostwick Circle. She had flourished there, as she had flourished in Kinloch Hold before Uldred. But now, seeing Cullen by the entrance to Haven, decidedly _not_ looking at her, all the wounds that had scabbed over had been ripped open, and she was drowning in blood.

Her heartbreak must’ve shown on her – the Seeker shot her quite an intense, inquisitive look. She strangled her feelings with a vengeance and forced them back down into the recesses of her mind, schooling her features.

“Very well.” Perhaps her face was schooled, but her voice wasn’t. It didn’t crack, and that was something, but no-one could mistake the coolness tinted with hurt.

Caelia returned Cullen’s favour, decidedly _not_ looking at him as she and the others in her party passed through the gates.

~ Begin Again ~

It was far from instant attraction that drew Caelia and Cullen together.

Caelia, as had been established, did find Cullen handsome, and if the lingering looks she had caught Cullen given her (proceeded by another one of his blushes when he noticed he had been caught) was interpreted correctly, he held the same opinion of her. But while sexual adventures between mages and between templars wasn’t an irregularity in the tower (not that Caelia had partaken in any), sexual adventures between mages _and_ templars were unheard of. If they happened, no-one spoke about it, and understandably so – because they were outright forbidden.

So, it wasn’t the want for physical intimacy that began… well, _them_.

They greeted each other friendly enough when their paths crossed, something which cheered Cullen up something mighty. Caelia suspected he had held a picture perfect, glorified image of what the life of a templar would be like. Outside of the Circle, that image might even represent reality; inside the Circle, however, as many, if not more, mages saw the templars in an antagonistic fashion. The mages couldn’t be outright hostile to the templars without being punished, but they could refuse to be friendly or assist their plated watchers.

Evidently, Caelia didn’t count herself amongst those mages.

Caelia was perhaps a special case in just how friendly she was with the templars (only Wynne matching her enthusiasm) – and she was friendly whether the sentiment was returned or not. She had been in the Circle since she was three years old, and by seven had accepted that the Circle would be her life. She had no control over her placement in the Circle, but she had a choice how to live this life. In the choice between being antagonistic, angry, and bitter, or being kind, gentle, and friendly, she chose and would always choose the latter. She was happier for it.

And, really, it was only one or two of the templars who were borderline cruel – telling stories to the children for the sole reason of scaring them, handing out disproportionally harsh punishments and such. Generally, First Enchanter Irving and Knight-Commander Greagoir cracked down on such treatment before it went too far. Most templars were simply indifferent, but a few were as kind as the rules and regulations set up allowed them to be.

Coincidentally, it was yet again a Tuesday that their story continued, this time in the library.

It was late, perhaps a candle mark or two past bedtime for the apprentices. The enchanters had a bit more leeway, although they shouldn’t go wandering aimlessly around the tower; sitting and studying in the library, for all that, was a perfectly acceptable activity. It was not unusual to find a few enchanters there until well into the night.

Caelia was the only person in the library that night, however. Well, the only enchanter, as Knight-Corporal Rutherford had gotten the watch-duty for the night. He was being a perfect templar, however, and the only sound that came from him from time to time, was when he shifted, and the different pieces of the heavy plate scraped against each other. She knew some of the apprentices thought the templars’ silence was due to their pride, but it was more for their own safety: some of the rituals and magics that the enchanters performed required absolute focus, at the risk of people getting hurt.

Lately, Caelia had become more and more fascinated with stars. While she had seen illustrations of them, she had never seen them herself. Well, she must’ve before she was taken to Kinloch Hold, but she had only barely been three, and those memories escaped her. More than the mystery of the stars, Caelia had become more and more engrossed in just how little they knew about them (which, perhaps, was the true mystery). There were many books written on them, which cited their sources from anything from old elven ruins, to ancient, Tevene cults, to Avvar augurs. There were theories upon theories, and at least seven names in several different languages for each star and constellation, but nothing yet conclusive.

So engrossed she was in one particular book – which talked about the Chasind building monuments to replicate specific constellations, and it’s ramifications in what most of Thedas thought an uncivilised culture – that she didn’t pay proper attention when she reached out for her cup of (now, cold) tea, and instead knocked over the stack of books she had piled up on her table.

In the silence of the night, the noise was deafening.

“Andraste’s shapely buttocks,” Caelia cursed as she got down on the floor to gather the books. She paused when she heard the Knight-Corporal startle and walk over to her. Glancing up at him, she was taken aback by the tired look on his face; she wouldn’t have been surprised if he had been resting his eyes for a bit.

“That’s some language,” Rutherford commented with a sleepy grin.

Returning the grin, she replied, “There are many regulations in the tower, but none of them restrict the use of curses.” Caelia paused and then amended, “Though, perhaps, don’t mention that particular curse to Her Reverence.”

That startled out a laugh from Rutherford. He surprised her yet again when he got down on his knees and began helping her gathering the books. She shot him a grateful smile, as there was no shortage of books – she truly should begin to return them to the shelves when she picked up new ones.

“Astronomy?” Rutherford noted curiously. She hummed in confirmation as he turned over one of the books. “That’s a surprise.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “How so?”

“Ehm, well,” he began, getting flustered again. She hid a grin from him at that. “I just didn’t think it was something mages had an interest in.”

“’Mages’ are a rather broad generalisation. Did you think that all mages studied was magic?”

“Well… yes?” he half answered, half asked. “I mean, you’re mages.”

“I see,” Caelia noted with a roll of her eyes as she hefted another book onto the increasing pile on the desk. “So, since you’re a templar, I take it that swordsmanship and meditation solely make up your hobbies?”

“What? That’s ridiculous,” he told her. When she cocked another eyebrow at him, he sighed, “… point taken.”

Caelia smiled. It wasn’t many templars who would admit that.

“A large part of our studies _is_ about magic,” Caelia told him. “The apprentices focus almost solely on magic, learning to control their skills, and preparing for their Harrowing. But once you make the rank of enchanter, you’re no longer a danger, and can partake in other studies.” She motioned to behind him, “We have whole sections here in the library on the natural sciences, statecraft, mathematics, and many other things that have very little to do with magic.”

“Oh.” Rutherford glanced over the many filled bookcases of the library in new appreciation. Then he turned back to her, “So, astronomy is one of your interests?”

“A rather new development,” she confirmed with a nod, picking up the last book. “They do pique my curiosity – the stars, I mean. I do look forward to my first assignment on the outside. I hope to be able to see them with my own eyes.”

It took a few moments for the meaning behind the words to register with Rutherford. “You haven’t seen the stars before?”

“I was barely three when my magic manifested itself,” she told him nonchalantly. “I have very few memories of my life before the templars escorted me to Kinloch Hold.”

“_Three?_” Rutherford exclaimed. He looked positively distressed. “I thought magic only manifested itself later.”

“It does so only rarely before the age of seven, and for most it’s between the age of ten and twelve.” He still looked troubled. “I’m alright, Rutherford.” He looked up at her. “I’m quite content here.”

“Yeah, alright,” he nodded slowly, but didn’t look entirely convinced. He paused. “If astronomy is a new development, what are some of your old hobbies?”

Caelia had sat down again and was about to take a sip of her tea when he asked. She glanced up at him, the cup hovering only an inch from her mouth. “That’s rather forward of you, isn’t it?”

Rutherford got flustered again. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer.”

“I don’t mind it,” Caelia told him slowly. “You just take a much more active interest in me than the other templars ever have. Others might not be entirely lenient if they discover it.”

Caelia had been sure that would be it. It wasn’t against regulations, but while friendliness was more than tolerated, outright friendships between mages and templars was frowned upon – you couldn’t have a templar hesitate if a mage turned into an abomination, due to a relationship.

Rutherford proved her wrong, however.

“There’s no-one else here now,” he told her, only slightly meekly.

She tilted her head, looking him over again. Then she smiled. “So there aren’t. But if that’s the case, why don’t you take a seat? You must’ve been stood for hours now.”

To his credit, Rutherford only hesitated for a second before complying, sitting down across from her. He let out a groan of satisfaction as he did, causing Caelia’s smile to widen.

“How old are you even?” Caelia asked. “Twenty?”

“Nineteen. I was born in 9:09,” Rutherford corrected. “Though, I believe I asked you a question first.”

Caelia chuckled. “That you did. I’m afraid you’re going to be bored by the answer; I spend a lot of my time reading, playing on my lute, singing, and assisting the First Enchanter. Oh, and I do enjoy a good game of chess.”

“Chess?” Rutherford peaked up. “I love chess. I played it a lot with my sister when we were children.” He got a fond grin on his face. “She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won – which was _all_ the time. My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won…”

“Have you seen that look again since that one time?” Caelia teased.

“You,” Rutherford mock-threatened with a finger. Then he chuckled, “Although, yes, she does still win more often than not.”

“You love your sister,” she noted gently with a smile.

“I love all my siblings. We may mock and tease each other, and give each other a hard time, but I can always count on them,” he answered fondly. He then seemed to recall where he was and got a look of remorse on his face. “I apologise. I just realised how insensitive that was.”

“Some might see it as that. I do not,” Caelia replied with a shrug. “I did mean it when I said I was content here. There are things that I would want to be different, but I hardly feel like I can complain. The others tell stories about how hard things can be for elves outside of the tower, the struggles they go through. Here I have safety, I have a roof over my head, I have a warm bed, and I have three fulfilling meals each day. I got the opportunity to study to my heart’s content, and to learn from and teach others with the same talent that I got.”

Rutherford gave her a considering look. “That is an admirable attitude.”

“I see it simply as sensible,” Caelia chuckled. “There are many things that I can’t control, but also quite a few that I can. I can see the truth in when some describe the Circle as a prison – but if it is a prison, it has the comfort of nobility.”

Rutherford hummed, though Caelia could spot the minute traces of discomfort at the subject.

“What do _you_ enjoy doing in your spare time?” Caelia decided to distance them from said subject.

“Me?” Rutherford seemed surprised. Then he chuckled. “I do enjoy swordsmanship and meditation; it must be said. And, of course, chess. But I also really enjoy riding and fishing.”

“You get to do that loads here, huh?” Caelia commented mirthfully.

“All the time,” Rutherford let out a bark of laughter. He sobered some. “I’ve always wanted to be a templar, so while this can be hard work, I am also quite content here.”

Caelia smiled gently at that, Rutherford mirroring her.

A light clattering broke their connection. Caelia looked over to the candle clock, and the nail that had fallen to the plate beneath it. It was now well past midnight, and she still needed to be up at eight with the other enchanters.

“I should retire for the night,” Caelia told him.

“It is probably for the best,” he agreed, albeit with a sigh. He stood up with her, and as she picked up the top third of the stack of books, he waved her off. “Go, get some sleep. I’ll return them to the shelves.”

“Truly? Thank you,” she smiled, putting the books down again. “You’re alright, Rutherford.”

“Cullen.” Caelia blinked in surprise. Rutherford looked bashfully at her, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. “My name is Cullen.”

Caelia smiled gently. “Well, you’re alright, Cullen.” She paused for just a moment. “My name is Caelia.”

~ Begin Again ~

“How do you know the Knight-Commander?” Maxwell Trevelyan asked of her.

Caelia had to hand it to him; he had waited until they had been settled in their chambers and hadn’t asked in front of everyone. She hadn’t seen any other familiar faces from Kinloch Hold, and Max was the only one other than her from the Ostwick Circle; he was the only one, other than the templar in question himself, who would have even an inkling of an idea of her past involvement with said templar.

Sitting down on the bunkbed that had been assigned her (it wasn’t near as good as the one she had had in the Circle, but a vast improvement over the thin layer of hay she had been sleeping on since arriving in Redcliffe), she looked over at Max. He was already lying in his own bed, hands behind his head, one of his legs dangling and swinging back and forth, and an unreadable expression in his eyes.

With his black hair, Antivan skin-tone, and soft features, Max was all but the polar opposite of Cullen. Caelia wouldn’t say it had been that which had drawn her to him after she had arrived in Ostwick, because he was very charming and sweet indeed, but it had certainly helped.

While she had functioned after the Fifth Blight, Uldred’s uprising and the Battle for Denerim had taken its toll on her, although nowhere near as much as the confrontation with Cullen. Two more years she had stayed in Kinloch Hold, before First Enchanter Irving had suggested it might be best for her if she transferred to another Circle. She had been resistant at first, but after making the move, she knew it had been the right choice. She could breathe again.

“Cullen was stationed at Kinloch Hold,” Caelia muttered, trying to ignore the stabbing sensation in her chest just by the mention of his name.

“… and?” Max prodded.

“And what?”

“Caelia,” he breathed out exasperated. “We’ve been friends now for seven years. Never, not even once, have I seen you this out of sorts.” Putting the weight on his elbows, he leant up to look at her with a serious expression on his face. “Did he hurt you? His involvement in Kirkwall is-.”

“Maker, no!” Caelia exclaimed. “It’s nothing like that.” No matter what had occurred since, or how they parted, Caelia couldn’t ever let the impression persist that Cullen hurt her. Well, he did, but not in the manner in which Max implied.

Max relaxed. “Good. But what is it, then?” When Caelia still hesitated, he breathed out harshly. “Come on. I thought you trusted me.”

Caelia levelled a glare on him at that statement. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is you keeping secrets.”

Only their breathing was heard for a few moments.

“You can’t comment, make face, or react in anyway,” she finally instructed him. Maker, she loved Max, and while he wasn’t one of the mages who had sought to rebel, he held a lot of anger towards how some templars had treated the mages.

Max nodded, a curious look on his face.

“We… had a thing.”

Max shot her a deadpanned look. “You… had a thing.”

Caelia sent him an exasperated look. “Wow! Breaking rule one, two, _and_ three. All at once!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Max apologised about as sincerely as a tainted rock.

Caelia rolled her eyes, laid down, and stared up into the ceiling.

“It was more than just a thing,” she finally told him after several minutes. “It was… We were involved. Quite seriously.”

“That can’t have been easy.”

Caelia smiled softly. “Oh, but it was the easiest thing in the world.” She tilted her head to look back at him again. “But, no, it did take quite some manoeuvring. There were a few who even suspected, though I doubt even they had an inkling to just how close we were.”

“Alright. Ok.” Max took a settling breath. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but… Cullen? This is the Cullen that stood by Knight-Commander Stannard? The Cullen who saw who-knows-how-many mages get branded?”

“And the Cullen who stood up against Stannard when it truly mattered. The Cullen who let the Champion go when he very well could’ve put up a fight,” Caelia replied sharply. Max didn’t respond. “He was hurt rather badly in Uldred’s uprising. He spent eight months in Greenfell recovering before he was transferred to Kirkwall.”

“Does that excuse his actions?”

“No, but they do explain them some.”

Max made a noise she couldn’t decipher, and really didn’t care to in that moment.

“I’m not jealous,” he then said. “I know what we have. We have bloody good sex, and a friendship I wouldn’t trade for the world. And I’m not secretly in love with you – and now that I’ve seen how you act when you love someone, I can rest assured that you’re not in love with me either.”

“I’m not-.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Max cut her off gently.

She bit her tongue drawing some blood. Then she took a deep breath.

“I don’t want to love him,” Caelia finally amended. “It would be so much easier if I loved you.”

Max chuckled. “Perhaps. Or perhaps we would burn and crash if we attempted to make something serious about what we have. Love isn’t easy.”

Caelia didn’t answer, and Max didn’t try to make her. They didn’t talk anymore that night. She donned her night clothes, pulled the duvet up to her shoulder and faced the wall.

All the while, one sentence rang true in her mind: Love with Cullen _had_ been easy,

~ Begin Again ~

Caelia should’ve realised her and Cullen’s blossoming friendship wouldn’t go unnoticed.

They had attempted to be discreet. It wasn’t something either had vocalised after that first night when Caelia had warned him, but something they both understood. So, they still greeted each other when they passed just the same, and when others were around, they didn’t go out of their way to help the other. That was saved for the nights Cullen had watch duty in the library.

Those nights had become the highlights of her life. Sometimes they were lucky and no-one else was using the library, but other times they had to wait until well into the night before being able to let their guard down. Caelia would then get tea and biscuits from the kitchens, while Cullen set up the chessboard that he had brought with him from Honnleath. Some nights the game was all but forgotten as they were drawn into deep conversations and debates, while other nights only a handful of words were exchanged as they sat in comfortable silence.

Cullen had become her very best and closest of friends.

That was a bit sad, she could admit. Not because Cullen wasn’t worthy of it, but because they had only known each other for six months, while Caelia had known some of the other mages her whole life. The thing was, because of how far ahead of the other apprentices she had been, because of the ease of which she had passed her Harrowing (and at such a young age), because of the kindness she showed the templars, her peers were friendly with her but had never once sought to strike a friendship.

Caelia had been alright, though. She had a wonderful mentorship with Wynne, had good conversations with the Revered Mother, and lately even the First Enchanter had taken a special interest in her. But it was true what they said, ‘Ignorance is bliss’. Because now that she had a friend, she could admit that while she hadn’t been miserable, she had missed out on something big and important.

This was why she began feeling afraid as she sat in the chair across from First Enchanter Irving in his office, his stare levelled at her in an unreadable expression. He knew that her friendship with Cullen went against what was normally allowed, and she knew it, and he knew that she knew it. She couldn’t even deny the friendship, as it was not ten minutes earlier that he had walked into the library to see the two of them laughing and joking over the chessboard. It was safe to say the jovial atmosphere had vanished the moment he had cleared his throat and cocked one of his bushy eyebrows at them.

“How long has this been going on?” Irving finally asked.

“Six…” For a moment Caelia entertained the notion of lying. To say it had only been a few weeks. The thing was, though, that while she was scared of losing Cullen and his friendship, if it were to be, she wanted the First Enchanter to know all the facts. She wasn’t ashamed of her friendship with Cullen. “… months.”

That did seem to surprise him. “Months?”

Caelia nodded and answered in a meek voice, “Yes, sir.”

“And has these meetings all taken place in the library?”

“Yes,” Caelia nodded again. “On the nights of Cullen’s watch duty there. We wait until everyone else has left.”

“And what do you do?” Irving asked gravely.

“You rather saw all that we do. We play chess and we chat. We debate different subjects.”

Even as she explained that to the First Enchanter, she felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t lying. Really, it wasn’t. There was some omission taking place, though; while that was all they did, in the last few weeks the conversation had taken a bit of a turn. Questions began prodding at increasingly personal matters, undercurrents of flirting were trickling between them, and there had been more than a few lingering looks and some lingering touches. Nothing had _happened_, but… If she were to be candid, she would not object if something _had_ happened.

Irving hummed at that, leaning back into his plush chair, his eyes not wavering for even a moment.

“You’ve always been friendly with the templars, which is admirable in itself,” Irving then began. “Others see them as nothing more than rapid dogs.”

“As well as some mages see the Circle as a prison. Rather, probably the same mages,” Caelia countered with a frown, not seeing where the First Enchanter was going with this. “The templars have their duties, and most of them are trying to fulfil them with as much honour as they are able to muster.”

“Indeed,” Irving agreed, a light twitching of his mouth. “Still, I would never have expected this of you.”

Caelia raised her chin slightly. “I won’t apologise for it.” The First Enchanter tilted his head at her, and she got a bit flustered. “I mean- We haven’t done anything wrong. There is nothing in the rules which outright forbids friendship between templars and mages. I simply can’t apologise for being friends with Cullen.”

Irving seemed to have finally found what he had been looking for, because he smiled gently. “Good.”

“And, just for the recor-,” Caelia continued, but cut herself off. She blinked. Twice. “Wait, what?”

“Many forgets, mages and templars alike, that the templars were never meant to be jailors of mages,” Irving told her. “They were meant to be a safety net. It was meant to be a partnership, where the templar protects the mage.”

Caelia frowned. “Many templars don’t really make an effort to be seen as much more than our jailors.”

Irving hummed and inclined his head in agreement. “As well as many mages not giving the templars a chance to be much else.” Irving sighed. “I’ve been the First Enchanter for almost two decades now. Times are changing; while the Aequitarians still hold the majority of the power in the College of Magi, the Libertarians are gaining ground, primarily through a narrative which makes the templars the antagonists. Something has to be done to prevent the College from separating from the Chantry.”

“Separating from the Chantry?” Caelia asked in surprise. “That would be suicide. Neither the templars, the seekers, nor the common populace would stand for it. Do you really think matters will escalate that much?”

“If we’re complacent, in time, yes,” Irving answered gravely. “I have only limited influence in the other circles, and there is little I can do. Here, however, I can do something.”

“And the Knight-Commander?”

Irving chuckled. “My dear, Graegoir and I have been friends since even before I gained this office.”

“Truly?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Irving told her mirthfully. “It isn’t always the easiest of friendships, but we both see what is happening. Others have called Kinloch Hold too lenient, but I think that says more about them than us.”

If anything, Caelia’s frown only deepened. “And… what does that mean for me and Cullen?”

“Yes, what indeed.” Irving, much to Caelia’s frustration, let that question hang in the air for a few moments. “I cannot officially encourage your relationship. As much as I long for the time where such a thing is even needed, the fraternities are much too fractured at the moment, even within this Circle. However, I can turn a blind eye if you keep being discrete as you’ve been. Though, next time, pick a table in one of the corners instead of the one in the middle of the room?”

Caelia blushed. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“No, my dear, thank you,” he smiled. Truly smiled. “Now, I do believe you have a class to teach in the morning, so it might be best if you retired for the night.” He went to open the door for her, but paused, his hand resting on the handle. “Do explain to Rutherford that no reprimand will be given, and that I will speak with Graegoir – though I still imagine that he will have a word with our young templar. He has something of a nervous disposition, that one.”

“Of course, sir,” Caelia answered, her cheeks still warm with the blush. “And thank you, again.”

Caelia wasn’t surprised to find Cullen pacing outside of the First Enchanter’s office. He was almost- no, he was most _definitely_ panicking. His head snapped up as she stepped outside, the heavy oak door closing behind her. His otherwise normally pristine and picture perfect hair was no longer set in that do of his, but stuck in every whichever direction from all the times he had run his hands through it, and his face was pale, the blood having drained from it the moment the First Enchanter had spotted them.

It really wasn’t proper, that even in this state, the sight of Cullen made warmth settle in the depths of Caelia’s stomach as her heart softened.

“What happened? Are you alright? What did he say? He saw us, didn’t he? I mean, of course he did, he was standing right there- and I mean _standing _right there. Oh, Maker, he did see us! I can take the blame, Caelia- I mean, I’ll say-.”

Caelia put a hand over his mouth to stop his rambling.

“_Breathe, _Cullen,” Caelia told him, not able to completely snuff out the chuckle that tried to escape her. That might be for the better, because that was what made Cullen freeze. When she was sure he wasn’t going to continue his tirade, she dropped her hand. “We’re alright.”

“I- What? I mean, _he saw us_,” Cullen told her as if she hadn’t been there herself.

“He-,” Caelia began, but stopped at the sound of a door opening. Further down the hallway Senior Enchanter Leorah stepped out from the storerooms; she gave them both a queer look before leaving them be and going on with her business. Caelia quickly glanced around them and spotted the supply closet a few steps further down the hallway. She grasped Cullen’s hand, “Come.”

A strangling noise sounded from Cullen’s throat before he sputtered slightly, though he did follow her. His face was several shades redder when she pushed him into the closet and followed him in there, quickly summoning up a magelight as she closed the door behind them.

“Caelia?” Cullen then voiced his confusion.

“The First Enchanter isn’t going to stop us from seeing each other,” Caelia explained. “Neither will the Knight-Commander.”

“Wai- What?” was Cullen’s eloquent response. “Caelia, you’re not making much sense. The First Enchanter _saw_ us. You even warned me this could happen.”

“I did. But Irving – the First Enchanter…” Caelia shook her head. “There is a lot of politics involved. The First Enchanter, and I guess the Knight-Commander, is trying to prevent the Libertarians from gaining powers with the other fraternities. Apparently, they’ve been making their rounds. They see our friendship as a good thing – though, because of how fractured and polarised the political landscape is becoming, it isn’t something we should advertise either.”

Cullen stared blankly at her. ”How is us being friends a political move?”

“Cullen, the two largest obstacles to our friendship just gave their approval, even if they told us to keep it discreet. Can’t you focus on that?” Caelia asked with a soft smile. “I don’t care much for the fraternities. Let them squabble.”

“I… Yes, of course,” Cullen answered with a sigh. “I’m sorry. You’ve no idea how worried I was for yo-. How worried I was.”

Caelia chuckled, reaching up and running her hand through Cullen’s unkempt hair. “I might have had an inkling.” It was only then that she noticed what she had done and tore her hand back as if she had been burned.

Cullen’s face was now beet red, a sharp contrast to how pale he had been in the hallway.

The supply closet suddenly seemed a lot smaller. They weren’t pressed up against each other, but Caelia could feel the heat coming off of Cullen, and the shadows cast by the magelight did things to her. Cullen was looking down at her, his eyes shadowed with an unidentifiable emotion.

“I…” Cullen began, his voice just louder than a whisper, but trailed off. He gulped, and Caelia’s eyes were drawn to the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. “I want to do something incredibly stupid. Especially in light of what just happened.” Caelia didn’t say anything; she simply looked back up and into those amber eyes of his. “If I… I mean, if you… That is to say… Oh, sod it.”

Then his lips were on hers.

It took her a moment to process that, a moment where she had stood frozen and wide-eyed. It registered in her brain in the same moment that the regret had flashed over Cullen’s face as he attempted to take a step back.

That was when Caelia had surged forward, crashing her lips to his.

As far as kisses went, it wasn’t a pretty kiss. Maker, as far as _first_ kisses went, it wasn’t pretty. Their teeth clanked together multiple times, their tongues touched but didn’t really engage, their arms and hands hovered awkwardly at their sides, and it was _wet_.

It was also perfect.

When their lips finally parted – and Caelia honestly couldn’t say how long they had stood there – neither of them could find it in them to mind that a spit trail still connected them.

“But Maker’s breath, you’re beautiful,” Cullen sighed, leaning his forehead against hers, and never taking his amber eyes off her blue ones.

“Cullen,” Caelia gently smiled. She brought her hands up to his jaws, his stubble tickling her as she caressed him. Then she brought his lips to hers again.

~ Begin Again ~

The Conclave was… Well, it would be a lie to say that it was successful. The mages and templars hadn’t killed each other yet, so there was that, and Divine Justinia was indeed a very charismatic woman with a wicked silver tongue. That only went so far, though; the mages couldn’t go back to how things had been, and the templars couldn’t accept anything but that.

Caelia prayed to the Maker that the Divine and her Conclave would find a compromise, but the more cynical part of her could not see that happening. The question would then be if the two factions would leave the temple in the same spirit they had arrived, or whether it would turn into yet another battlefield.

There wasn’t really much Caelia could do about it, either. While she was part of the rebel mage contingent, she wasn’t one of the negotiators. She was there so that the rebel mages could show their willingness for peace to the Chantry, and she was there because she was a powerful mage, and would increase the chance of the mages surviving if the temple indeed turned into a battlefield.

But it wasn’t all bad being there. While Caelia wasn’t the most religious person (even Max, with all his bluster and preening, was more devout than her), she _was_ affected by being in the resting place of the Sacred Ashes (even if said ashes had been stolen away). And Max’s sister, Evelyn, who had been living in Jader with her new husband for the last couple of years was also attending.

“… you simply must come visit when all this ghastly business is over and done with,” Evelyn finished telling about Jader.

“That would be nice,” Max responded carefully even as he glanced at Caelia. The side of Caelia’s mouth quirked in response.

Evelyn was a fantastic woman, one Caelia had had the pleasure of befriending while the former had still lived in Ostwick, but to call her worldly might be pushing it. For all that she had her heart in the right place, Caelia sometimes didn’t know where, by the Void, her head was.

“You too, of course, Caelia,” Evelyn smiled brightly. “Many Fereldans live there, especially after the Blight, so you would fit right in.”

“It’s something to consider,” Caelia chuckled. “It pleases me that you’ve found happiness there.”

“Oh, I have,” Evelyn smiled brightly. “I mean, you know I wasn’t too thrilled about it when Father arranged the marriage. It wasn’t as much about the age discrepancy as much as it was him being Orlesian! Rather a Rivaini, then! But Jean-Luc, he is very gentle, and sweet. And then the mansion – I did tell you about the mansion, yes? – it’s huge, and I’m in charge of it…”

Caelia and Max shared an amused look as Evelyn began retailing them with her responsibilities. It was… nice, under the circumstances, to engage in a conversation about something so mundane.

It wasn’t long before Caelia felt a shiver run down her spine as the conversations in the cafeteria came to an abrupt halt. Evelyn kept chatting on for a few more moments before she too noticed it, at which point she locked eyes with someone over Caelia’s shoulder that made her eyebrows rise several inches. Twisting in her seat to look towards the entrance, Caelia blanched when she saw the person standing there.

Cullen.

Far from being the cold and sure Knight-Commander Caelia had heard so much about, he looked small standing in the doorway – an impressive feat with how bulky his armour was. He shrank even more into himself as sharp whispers started up around the cafeteria, accompanied by more than a just a few venomous glares. There was a reason why the mages and templars had been delegated separate eating and common areas in the temple.

Then his eyes locked onto hers.

That seemed to give him a second wind, as he took a settling breath, and then walked towards the table she was sitting at. That caused the whispers to erupt into murmurs. At her side, Max tensed up, and Caelia could all but feel the animosity directed at Cullen. If Cullen’s brief glance at Max was something to be interpreted, so could he.

He stopped in front of her. And then there was quiet.

“I, ehm…” Cullen began, and then cleared his throat. He glanced around the cafeteria. “Could we talk? Somewhere private?”

After the whole scene at the entrance to Haven, Caelia had half a mind to tell him no. But those eyes, those thrice-damned pleading eyes that were now directed at her, which caused her heart to flutter, gave her no choice.

Caelia gulped. “Y-yeah. Okay.”

~ Begin Again ~

“Did you have a family?” Cullen’s voice sounded right next to her ear, rousing her from her slumber.

Caelia blinked a few times. “Huh?”

“Before, I mean?” Cullen continued. “Did you have a family?” His fingers were running down the side of her chest, causing goose bumps to break out in their wake. “I know you’re content here, _happy_ here, but don’t you ever wonder?”

“To ask ‘what ifs’ are one of the quickest ways to become unhappy,” Caelia muttered into his chest. She let that hang in the air for a few moments before she sighed. “Once in a while I do wonder. I can’t really remember much from before.”

“But you can remember some?”

Caelia looked up at the man in her bed. His hair was tousled, and a pleased flush was across his cheeks. He looked so vulnerable, and it warmed her heart that he trusted her enough to show this side of him.

“Snippets,” Caelia answered. She raised her hand and ran across the broad expand of his chest, gracing his nipple. He drew in a sharp breath. “I know that the templars brought me here from somewhere in the south of the Bannorn, but I don’t really know where. I think I remember an orchard. Maybe apple. Mum always smelled of apples. I think I remember siblings, but I’m not sure.”

Cullen didn’t verbally respond to that but tightened the arm he had draped below her. They didn’t really talk much about the circumstances of her being in the Circle. It should be the other way around, but it was Cullen who always got a tiny bit outraged about how little of a choice she had in anything. That also led him to be angry with himself, because he shouldn’t be outraged about it (his words, not hers).

Seeing as he was sleeping with one of his charges, Caelia thought it perhaps too little too late to attempt to be an exemplary templar. She didn’t say that out loud, of course.

Caelia had felt guilty. Of course she had. Not for loving Cullen, never for loving Cullen. But their friendship had only _just_ gotten the approval of the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander (though the latter never expressively stated it as such), an unstated condition of which was that it was no more than friendship that was between them, when said friendship took the final leap and became something more.

Cullen had felt it too. Perhaps, Caelia thought, more than she had. As much as she was part of the Circle, she had never had a choice. Cullen did. To be a templar had been his dream ever since he was a child, something he had worked for and succeeded in against all odds. It was something he had taken a holy vow for. And by being with her, he was breaking that vow – or in the very least, stretching its limits.

The first few weeks after their kiss had been spent interchangeably trying to forget it had happened, and them succumbing to their feelings which resulted in more kissing. Finally, two months after the fact, they realised that short of Cullen requesting a transfer, they couldn’t stop what was between them. That was also when they had decided that they didn’t _want_ to stop what was between them. So, they had embraced it.

Nothing much truly did change, it was true. At least at first. And that alleviated their guilt some. They still only met up in the library on the nights of Cullen’s watch duty; they played their chess matches and talked and debated over tea and biscuits. There were just more casual touches now, handholding over the table, and a kiss goodnight.

By the time they wanted more, the guilt had all but been forgotten.

The kisses became longer, hungrier and more intense. Their hands wandered, gracing forbidding places, tugging on their clothing and armour. And then, one night, they had snuck back to Caelia’s chambers and gone all the way.

Much like their first kiss, their first _time_ was messy, sticky, wet and perfect. Cullen did have just a bit more experience than her, though he had never gone all the way with anyone else. They both knew that if anyone found out about them, it was over. As horrible as that thought was, it comforted Caelia to know, that if it did end, they would always share that night, where they had given each other a hidden part of themselves.

They didn’t pull an Anders, who Caelia had had the misfortune of catching in the act multiple times, but especially the first few weeks did Cullen sneak down into her chambers as much as he could. There had also been a scare, when her monthly had been a few days late, but an incredibly embarrassing talk with Wynne later (who thankfully didn’t require any names), Caelia now had a handy new spell in her arsenal to prevent a repeat.

Caelia still loved their nights in the library but having Cullen in her bed was quickly becoming her favourite thing in the world. Of course, the sex was great, but it was the time after, where they laid sticky up against each other, drowsy in their aftermath, simply _enjoying_ each other, that Caelia wouldn’t trade for anything.

Caelia was happy.

“I think you deserve the world,” Cullen finally said. He rolled on top of her, his arms bracing him on either side of her head. He tucked a stray stand of black hair behind her ear and then leaned down and pecked her chastely on the lips. “You are the gentlest, kindest, most loving person I have ever known. I think you would have every right to be angry at a world that would rather not see you ever again. But you… You smile, and accept it, and find happiness in your circumstances despite everything. If I could, I would give everything you ever wanted.”

Caelia reached up and caressed Cullen’s cheekbone, and then cupped the nape of his neck and brought him down for another kiss.

“You are, Cullen. Never be in doubt of that.” She kissed him once more, attempting to pour all her affections for him through that contact. “I am happier here, right now, with you, than I ever thought possible. Knowing that you hold my heart, and that you would never break it, it gives me a peace I cannot describe to you.”

Cullen smiled brightly at her. He lay down on top of her, his arms grasping around her, and then rolled over so that she was lying on him. He kissed her hard, his arms wandering up and down her back.

“I won’t, you know,” he told her, his voice quivering with emotion. He caressed her cheeks. “I won’t ever break your heart. Not if I can help it.”

Caelia matched his smile and pressed her lips against his once more.

“I know.”

~ Begin Again ~

Cullen, somehow, had managed to find a vacant room in the temple. Caelia didn’t know whether she should be relieved at that fact or feel dread. He gently closed the door behind them, though as loud as the sound seemed to Caelia, he might as well have slammed it shut.

And then there was just the two of them.

Not able to help herself, Caelia wrapped her arms around herself, almost as if she needed to physically keep herself together. When Cullen took a step towards her, she took a larger one back, ignoring the agony that flashed across Cullen’s face at the action. She looked away from him.

Her heart was beating so fast, so loud, that it wouldn’t surprise her if Cullen could hear it. It knew; this moment would make her or break her. She shouldn’t have agreed to come here. Kinloch Hold broke her for a time, but this could destroy her.

“I’m sorry.”

Caelia’s eyes snapped up to his, surprised at the emotion displayed on his face. His eyes even looked watered.

“I’m sorry,” Cullen repeated, taking a deep breath. “I…” he trailed off.

Caelia looked him over, and, feeling just the tiniest bit more certain of herself, let her arms drop to her sides.

“Why am I here, Cullen?”

Cullen winced, biting his lower lip so hard that it was a wonder he wasn’t drawing blood.

“I… There is nothing I can say that will- I mean…” Cullen grimaced. He turned away from her, walked over to the wall and stood there for a few moments. He then took a deep settling breath before he turned to face her again. “I have done you a disservice I will never be able to amend.”

Caelia crossed her arms. “You would hardly be the first person in the world trying to avoid a former lov-.” She bit her tongue before she was able to finish that sentence. “A former… fling.”

Sorrow flashed in his eyes. “The way I greeted you at Haven is the least of my transgressions.” He rolled his head and rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. “You surprised me. I hadn’t expected to see you here. You are… a part of my life I have been trying to ignore – to forget – for a very long time.”

And there it was. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

Then there was anger.

“Fuck you,” Caelia spat at him. She stormed up at him, pushing a finger harshly into his breastplate. “You think you were the only one that was hurt at Kinloch Hold? I know what you went through, I know no-one deserves that, but seriously: _fuck you!_ I couldn’t stay either, did you know that? I had nightmares for fucking _years_, demons trying to assault me in my dreams every night I stayed in that tower. I had to leave the only home I had ever known, Cullen, leave the closest thing I had to a family. But you didn’t know that, did you? No, because you _left_. Without saying goodbye. No, worse, you left spitting on everything we had had, telling me I was an abomination waiting to happen, a freak accident of a birth, _trying to convince Greagoir to put me and every other mage in the Circle to the sword!_ And now _you_ have the gall to say _you_ need to forget that time!? **_Fuck. You._**”

Caelia was huffing by the end of her tirade, and she could feel her ears burning up. Cullen didn’t flinch from her: he stood facing her, accepting every accusation she slung at him. He didn’t deny a thing.

“There is nothing I can say to make it better,” Cullen tried again, his voice breaking. “I have made a lot of mistakes the last few years. I have… committed horrendous acts. I regret _nothing_ more than how I treated you.” He took in a shuttering breath. “I have not tried to forget you because I regret you. If there is one thing in my life that I don’t regret, it is _you_.” Cullen gulped, his shoulders trembling slightly. “I’ve tried to forget because my actions towards you, how I left things, it is my greatest shame.”

Caelia’s jaw tightened.

“I know I can do nothing to ever make up for my actions,” Cullen continued. “Not ever. But please believe me, I would do _anything_ to get the chance.”

Caelia turned around and walked a few steps away from him. Palming her face, she tried so hard to beat her wild emotions down. It would be for the best if she just left now. For everyone. But she knew she had lost that battle when she felt the wetness on her cheeks.

“You broke my heart.”

Caelia said it in little more than a whisper.

Cullen had heard, however. She knew he had. His breath hitched, and when she turned to face him once again, it was to be met with his tears.

“I am _so_ sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Cullen wasn’t merely shedding tears, he was full-out bawling. He dropped to his knees and looked up at her with tear-stained cheeks. “_I’m sorry_.”

More than anything else – more than if Cullen had been indifferent, more than if he had been angry, more than if he had blamed her – it was Cullen in pain that shattered her heart.

It really would’ve been so much easier if she could’ve loved Max.

There was no hesitation in her actions, as if more than a decade hadn’t gone by, and the harsh words had never been exchanged: She walked over to Cullen with gentle steps and knelt down in front of him. Putting a hand on his clasped ones, she tried to read his face. Shame and regret showed in equal measures.

Caelia leaned forward and brought her arms around him, involuntarily letting out a sigh of relief at the action.

Cullen’s breath hitched, his crying halting for a moment. Then, slowly but surely, Cullen’s arms enveloped her. He put his head on her right shoulder, tightened his arms around her, and said into her neck, “I am so unbelievably sorry, Caelia.”

She shuttered as his breath washed over her skin. She brought her right hand up and began running it through his hair, closing her eyes as she leant into him.

“I know, Cullen.”

They must’ve sat there for a while, because when Cullen’s breathing had finally evened and he retreated from her arms, her legs were smarting something fiercely. Then the awkwardness returned as they simply sat across from each other in the empty room.

It was Cullen who broke the silence with, “I’ve stopped taking lyrium.”

“Cullen, what-,” it escaped Caelia before she was able to stop herself. The moment the words had left Cullen, a spike of fear had entered her mind as coldness ran down her spine.

Back in Kinloch Hold, the lyrium that Cullen had to take had been the only thing about being a templar he truly didn’t like. He had told her so, on multiple occasions. He felt what it did to his body – unlocked his templar abilities, yes, but it was also chipping away at something inside of his mind. Slowly, incredibly slowly, but the chipping was there. It was a sacrifice, he had told her, one he thought worth it to serve the Templar Order and their ideals.

“It could kill you,” Caelia finally responded. Though, Cullen already knew that.

Cullen looked down and tightened his grip on her hands. Caelia blinked in surprise; she hadn’t noticed they had still been holding hands.

“What happened in Kinloch Hold… With Uldred…” he paused, and Caelia could see him fighting down the trauma the events had left him. She was the same at times. “You, more than anyone else, know how terrible it was. It… broke me. I wished for months that I had died with the others. But at Greenfell, I… Well, I didn’t get better, but I learned to handle it. And I wanted to serve. The Order sent me to Kirkwall.”

“You don’t have to explain anything. Least of all to me.”

“Yes, I do,” Cullen countered, no waver in his voice. “At the very least, to you.”

Caelia was taken aback by the fierceness in the statement, but then slowly nodded. She squeezed his hands, and then slowly began, “We heard terrible stories about the Kirkwall Circle back in Ostwick. And that was even before the mess with the Qunari.”

Cullen frowned. “If you’re asking whether they were exaggerated, I don’t believe they were.” His jaws clenched and unclenched several times before he continued. “Knight-Commander Meredith, she… was tough. Unrelenting. But after what happened at Kinloch Hold, I believed it was justified. And, not that it excuses anything that happened after, Kirkwall _was_ a troubled Circle. There is a discussion to be had, whether Meredith was relentless because of how the mages acted out, or if the mages acted out because Meredith was too relentless.” Cullen laughed humourlessly. “It doesn’t really matter now. But I trusted her, and her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets.”

“That was not you,” Caelia countered.

He looked at her with haunted eyes. “I had my part in it, Caelia. I am not innocent in what happened to Kirkwall. But I’m trying to do better. I’m trying to _be_ better.”

“So, the lyrium…?” Caelia realised.

“I want nothing to do with that life anymore,” Cullen almost snarled. It wasn’t directed at her, but it still made her jump slightly. “Sorry.”

“Being a templar is not being a bad person,” Caelia told him. “They do good, too. They have their place in the world. And you know that, too; you wouldn’t have become one, if you didn’t.”

“I was a child,” Cullen countered, the edge of his mouth turned down in a grimace. “And the Order is not what it once was. Breaking away from the Chantry, declaring _war_ on the mages… We were meant to protect the innocent – mages and ordinary people alike. All the Order seems to do now is kill.”

The statement hung in the air for a few moments before Caelia responded.

“I worry for you.” Consciously not thinking about her actions, she brought her hand up and caressed his cheek. Cullen let out a sigh and leant into her hand. “I’ve never heard of a templar breaking their addiction to lyrium. The ones that try, they always die.”

“It is not without danger, no, but it is something I have to do,” Cullen told her softly. He smiled gently at her. “I have people, too, now. Seeker Pentaghast knows what I’m attempting, and she has been a great support.” He paused, then, and seemed to hesitate, before continuing, “But I’m glad you are still able to worry about me.”

“Of course, I am – of course I _do_,” Caelia told her with a slight frown. “Cullen, I’ve never been in doubt of who you are. You hurt me at Kinloch Hold, and the stories out of Kirkwall wasn’t pretty, but I never, not even once, doubted you.”

“I am a broken man.”

“We all become broken and scarred as we live, Cullen. You’re not special in that regard. And I think your scars are beautiful.”

Cullen looked at her with wide eyes. It was too intense for Caelia, and she began looking away. Cullen, however, reached up and cupped her cheek.

“What did I do to deserve such faith?”

Caelia gave him a gentle smile, putting her hand on top of his and leant into his touch. “That’s the thing about faith. It is given, not deserved.”

The look of wonder in Cullen’s eyes sent Caelia back to Kinloch Hold. Back to when they weren’t Cullen and Caelia but _CullenandCaelia_. So, she leant forward and pressed her lips to his.

It was chaste, and it was short. And when she leant back again, she gave a short chuckle.

“That was a bit too much, wasn’t it?”

“A bit,” Cullen agreed softly. “But many things have become too much as of late. I don’t regret this.”

Caelia smiled. “Good.” And then she leant forward again, and this time Cullen met her halfway.

~ Begin Again ~

“You’re frowning again,” Caelia commented, moving her rook. “Oh, and checkmate.”

“Ugh, for the love of…” Cullen grimaced, knocking over his king.

“You’re distracted.”

“Can you blame me?” Cullen asked.

Caelia sighed. “No, I guess I can’t.”

They both began putting the pieces into their starting positions again. The silence was deafening, and not at all the comfort Caelia had grown used to. As Cullen started the new game by moving one of his pawns, he finally spoke up.

“You will be careful, won’t you?” Cullen asked of her. “I mean, I know it’s a battle, and I know I can’t ask of you to be careful, but… You will be careful, won’t you?”

Caelia sighed, the game forgotten. “Do you think I should’ve said no? Asked the First Enchanter to send someone else to Ostagar?”

Cullen winced, seemingly shrinking a bit in on himself. “The templar in me says no. You’re a powerful mage, and you will be able to make a difference.”

“… but?”

“But the man in me that loves you more than anything, wants to do nothing else but steal you as far away from the King and his army as he can.”

Caelia frowned. “It’s an honour to be asked.”

“It is,” Cullen agreed.

“I will be able to save people’s lives.”

“You will,” Cullen once again agreed.

Silence hung in the air again before Caelia sighed.

“I will try to be careful,” Caelia promised then. “I won’t… I won’t shy away from my duty, but I promise you, I will do my very best to come back to you.”

Cullen grimaced, but then nodded slowly. “Thank you.” He then hesitated for a moment before he stuck his hand into his pocket, “Still, if you would humour me…”

Of all the things Cullen could have in his pocket, a silver piece was the last thing Caelia would’ve guessed. He put it in her hand.

“Cullen?” Caelia looked inquisitively at him.

“My brother gave it to me the day I left for templar training,” Cullen explained, looking a bit flushed. “It just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck.” Fear shone in his eyes as he closed her hand around it. “It can’t hurt.”

Caelia smiled gently. Tightening her grip on the coin, she grasped Cullen’s hand with her other one. “I’ll keep it safe.”

Cullen returned the smile, albeit more pained than hers. “Good. I know it’s foolish, but… I’m glad.”

~ Begin Again ~

Cullen had asked her to stay. After the Conclave, that was. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had doubts that peace could be reached at the summit, and some contingency plan or other had been put in place. Cullen hadn’t said more, and had been downright evasive, but he had made it clear they could use a mage of considerable skills such as herself.

Caelia had felt disappointed for all of five seconds before Cullen had continued that it wasn’t the only reason why he was asking. He had fucked up (yes, Caelia had taken a double take when Cullen the Chantry-Boy had cursed as such) before and had lost her. If she was willing, he would like to have another chance. And Caelia had given it to him.

That was hours ago, now, and if Caelia was entirely candid with herself, she did have ambivalent feelings about it all. Her feelings for Cullen couldn’t be explained easily, and as much as a part of her wanted to jump right back into a relationship with him, she knew it wasn’t possible just as such. Cullen was still Cullen, yes, but he had changed since Kinloch Hold. So had she.

They were like two pieces of a puzzle now. They had once fit seemingly together, but years apart had worn their edges rough. They now snagged on each other when they tried to fit. It was possible, but it would take work.

“_Someone! Help me!”_

Caelia’s head snapped up. Shit, who had gotten into a fight now?

She quickly ran over to the room where the cry for help had come from, flinging the door open as she entered.

“What’s going on here?”

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, that was a bit of a monster. It’s been a while since I’ve written something so extensive, so I hope it was still enjoyable.  
I’ve loved the Dragon Age universe for quite a while and have wanted to write a story in it for some time. I’ve never been particularly good at coming up with one-shots, however, and it would be quite a task to novelise one of the games. But here it finally is; for now, it is a standalone, but, as you can see in the ending, I’m leaving open the possibility of writing a sequel.  
I hope Cullen doesn’t come off as whingy in this story – especially the part that takes place in the present. But, as he explains, the way he treated Caelia had been his greatest shame. I think that warrants just a bit of whinging.  
Synthesis


End file.
